


Public Displays of Affection

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-17
Updated: 2006-03-17
Packaged: 2019-02-02 11:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12725400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Jack's romantic side comes out in unexpected ways.





	Public Displays of Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

It started oddly. Getting back to his office after yet *another* briefing that denied time to study cultural issues on the latest planet, Daniel stormed in and was about to throw his briefing book across the desk when he spotted it.

It was small, stuffed, and well, he wasn't sure what it was. An alien, maybe? Or a mutant? Whatever he/she/it was, they were holding a bag of his favorite coffee, and from the scent, freshly ground coffee at that. Pulling the aromatic bag out of the monster's arms, Daniel noticed the sash that ran from the little guy's shoulder to thigh. "My love for you is bigger than the whole Universe!" was printed in purple glitter script. Picking up the stuffed figure, Daniel idly noted that the purple glitter matched the tufts of purple hair randomly spouting from both stuffed heads.

Looking around for the joke, Daniel didn't see anyone taking notice. He smiled, tucked his new buddy into his satchel and sat down to his next set of translations.

* * *

P4X-328 was cold, wet, cold and dark. Had he mentioned it was cold? And wet? 

The majority of the day had been spent trekking from the 'Gate to a set of high tech looking buildings that were located about five clicks from the portal. The distance wasn't the problem, but the weather made the journey take forever. There were torrential rains, which required the team to huddle together to assure not losing sight of each other. The winds were blowing with a ferocity that Daniel hadn't seen since a bad sandstorm in Egypt. The advantage of the Egyptian winds was that they were warm. Daniel began to wonder if the inhabitants of the planet would even know what warm *was*.

Finally, the group worked its way into the first building. Flashlights illuminated the dusty script that covered most of the walls. Daniel and Sam stood waiting for Teal'c and Jack to complete a perimeter check and then were dispatched to begin their surveys.

Daniel shook the water from his hair, reminding himself greatly of the dogs he watched during his weekly runs with Jack. Wiping his glasses, he pulled out his survey journal and opened the Velcro strap. Flipping to his last entry page, he found himself staring slack jawed at the two small pieces of paper that were taped there. 

The first was a child's Disney Valentine. Buzz Lightyear fiercely grinned from the paper as he proclaimed, "I'll love you, to Infinity and Beyond!" The second was a Sweetest Day postcard with a picture of Tim Allen in a cheezy-looking space suit. The caption on the bottom screamed, "I'll never give up. I'll never surrender -- until you're mine!"

Suddenly the planet wasn't quite so dark, or quite so cold. Smiling, Daniel picked up his pencil and began to work.

* * *

4 a.m. 

He *knew* he shouldn't have stayed so late to finish SG7's translations. But with a three-day weekend coming up, he didn't want anything really pressing hanging over his head. It was going to be rest, relaxation, aquarium shopping and reading. He was ready.

Ready that is, until he reached his car and saw the flat back tire. Standing in the crisp night, Daniel stared at the tire as if it were giving him a personal affront by being flat. Cursing the same word in as many languages as he could list, he reached for the spare. Popping the trunk he found a neatly typed card attached to the jack. "If this is being used on the road, you know who you should call, should you need additional help. If this is being used in the parking lot of the SGC, CALL A MARINE. THAT'S WHAT THEY'RE THERE FOR. DOCTORS OF ANTHROPOLOGY, ARCHEOLOGY AND LINGUISTICS DO NOT CHANGE TIRES WHEN THERE ARE MARINES AROUND."

The screaming, capitalized type at the end was enough to lighten his mood as he could hear the author's voice clearly emanating from the card. Looking at the man trotting over from the guard shack, Daniel quickly shifted the card to his coat pocket.

"Got a problem, Doctor Jackson?"

Smiling back at the guard, Daniel motioned to the flat tire. He watched in relief as the guard radioed for two men to come take care of the problem. Accepting an offer of coffee from the guard shack, Daniel kept one hand in his pocket fingering the card.

* * *

Computer failure. He sat staring at what he knew as "the blue screen of death" and watched the last thirty minutes of typing disappear into cyberspace. He had saved the majority of the report, but the carefully worded suggestion page would need to be recreated. 

It figured it was that section. The academic stuff came with NO problem. He thought -- and the words came flowing from his fingers. But getting the wording of his suggestions right, to present his point, without ticking off the military minds that were going to evaluate his ideas, was a whole other matter. What he needed was a snack. 

Pulling open his lower desk drawer Daniel hoped to find the last of the stale crackers he'd discovered last week. He knew he should restock his snack supply, but somehow he never got around to it. And he really didn't want to hit the cafeteria and lose another 30 minutes in elevator rides and a food search.

Hoping for the crackers, Daniel sat dumbly peering into the packed drawer. Pop Tarts, two boxes! Frosted brown sugar cinnamon *and* frosted strawberry. There was a full package of peanut butter filled cheese crackers and a full package of cheese filled butter crackers -- both Keebler; the good kind.

There were several small bags of trail mix, and finally, much to his secret joy, a full box of Ding Dongs. Pulling out the Hostess box, Daniel saw a small 'Post It' note attached. "These are for emergencies only. This is NOT a full meal."

Pulling the foil off the Ding Dong, Daniel pushed the entire treat into his mouth and sighed with contentment.

* * *

He hated this. Janet was trying to fix him up with one of her nurses and she wasn't very open to taking "no" for an answer. All he'd wanted was a little lunch and some fresh coffee. Now he was fending off both Janet and Sam, who had agreed with Janet, that what Daniel really needed in his life was a little "romance." 

Starting his eighth argument against their suggestion, Daniel was interrupted by the stunned looks on Janet's and Sam's faces. Turning to his side, Daniel saw one of the entrance guards standing close holding a large bouquet of two dozen yellow roses. They were in an expensive crystal vase and were artfully arranged.

The lieutenant set the flowers on the lunch table. "Doctor Jackson, these were delivered to the NORAD site upstairs for you. I was on my way to your office when I saw you sitting in here."

Quirking a grin at Daniel, the young man offered a comment of "Wish my girlfriend sent me flowers!" and then departed.

Noting the continuing stunned looks on his lunch companions' faces, Daniel stood, picked up his roses and started to leave. "Thanks, Janet, Sam, but I have plenty of romance in my life."

He took a strong whiff of the flowers and walked back to the elevators. Opening the card, he read. "Roses are yellow, so is the sun. I hope these remind you, Friday night dates can be fun!" Below the short poem he found: Mongolian Barbecue, 129 Western Street. 8pm Friday.

* * *

He entered the restaurant, tugging at his tweed jacket. He favorite solid colored shirt was tucked neatly into Dockers. He was glad to be able to wear the tweed, it made him feel comfortable and safe. "Comfort clothes," as he thought of them. He shook his head lightly. Sam was always trying to get him to be more "trendy" and dress more fashionably. 

Several months ago, she'd tried her "Daniel, you need a new wardrobe" lecture with an audience. Trying to solicit support from her commanding officer and Teal'c, Sam had been quite surprised at the reaction her makeover suggestions received. Daniel was resigned as she started in on his wardrobe, but then Jack had cut her off. "Carter, can it. He wears what he wants. Most guys do. We dress for ourselves and comfort. Leave him alone."

Talking over Sam's protests, Jack continued, "Daniel looks like, well, Daniel. He wears what is comfortable and I think it's fine. If you want to offer fashion advice, pick someone who's interested."

Sam had let it drop after that, they'd finished a nice team dinner at Murphy's and Daniel's wardrobe had not been called into question again.

Smiling at the memory, Daniel approached his dinner companion's table. Jack smiled up to him and gestured to the open chair.

"Nice jacket," Jack said as he poured a glass of red wine and handed it over. Taking the glass, Daniel clinked it against Jack's. "Thanks, I've always liked it."

The laughed together and drank their wine.

* * *

He really wondered how he got himself into these things. SG5 had asked for linguistic assistance at a site that had recently been discovered. With Teal'c visiting family and Jack awaiting a diplomatic visit from Thor, there was no reason for the General and Jack not to assign Daniel to the task.

Jack had warned him, before departure, that he shouldn't let the Marines push him around. Jack knew Daniel could take care of himself, but he didn't want to take chances on some jarhead abusing his power.

Daniel had shrugged it off, but now he was beginning to lose his temper. First the "walk" from the 'Gate had been done in a double-time march. He knew SG5 was trying to tire him out, or get him to complain. But fighting aliens for these last few years had built up quite a bit of stamina.

Then they set up camp. Daniel was left a one man pup tent that was missing one of the pegs and he'd had to improvise to keep it stabilized. He sure wasn't going to ask for help, especially since he suspected that one of his "teammates" had the peg in his pack. MREs had been distributed for lunch and his was mysteriously burned.

Finally settling into the alcove to begin his task, he rolled out his tool kit. As the cloth unfurled, he pulled out a couple of his favorite brushes to begin to clean off the text. Amidst the brushes was a small plastic baggie. Setting the brush aside, he fingered the odd package. 

Pulling it open, he caught a familiar scent that could only be Hershey's. There were 3 small bundles. Each had a silver wrapped morsel and a striped foil companion. Quirking his eyebrow, he pulled out the small card. "One Hug and one Kiss for each night you're way. I promise the real thing when you return."

Popping the first chocolate into his mouth, he thought of warm, chocolate brown eyes and smiled.

* * *

The walk back to the 'Gate was a standard timed march. Daniel grinned and pulled his boonie down a little further to hide his smirk. His translation at the obelisk had rescued all of SG5 from the long-forgotten alien trap. A few bruised Marine egos were icing on the cake. 

Pushing his sunglasses up his nose, Daniel thought back to the trap. He'd been left to his translations and SG5 had returned to camp and started dinner without him. Gathering firewood, somehow they'd triggered a detection device. The machine had picked off the group one-by-one. 

Hours later, Daniel returned to find all of SG5 in a totally enclosed force field -- hovering about ten feet off the ground. The cube trap would have been interesting on its own, but the fact that it transported the men and *only* the men had put the marines in a unique situation. The device apparently was designed to strip weapons from its prey before incarcerating them. Unfortunately for SG5, the device couldn't seem to differentiate weapons or technology from anything else SG5 had with them -- including pants, or underwear, or well, anything.

Daniel had stood at the edge of the clearing for a good two minutes before a very *naked* and very *angry* SG5 had looked down from their floating jail to plead for help.

Previous whispered derogatory labels became a respectful "Doctor Jackson" in one big hurry as Daniel explained to SG5's Major Mallory that he had deciphered the local language. It took Daniel a few minutes to find the device the group had set off, then a few more minutes to read the instructions to disengage it. Within an hour of his return, Daniel had the naked marines landing softly back on the ground and scrambling for their packs and extra clothing.

Daniel's thoughts returned to the present, finding the group almost at the 'Gate. He marched up to the DHD and pressed the familiar coordinates for home.

The familiar whoosh carried the group back into the Embarkation Room. Daniel did a quick scan -- General Hammond and Siler were both up in the control booth. Security was present and a few servicemen were there to take their gear. 

No one else.

Slightly deflated, Daniel followed the group for their post mission physicals and finally found himself in the locker room. Most of SG5 had already departed as he opened his locker. Pulling down his towel from the shelf, he found a small book. The heavy leather binding embraced thick paper turned cream with age. Running long fingers over the embossed lettering, Daniel started at the voice over his shoulder.

"Geez, Dr. Jackson, another old book? And look at the funny letters, you should give work a break once in a while." With a pat on the shoulder, Major Mallory sauntered out of the locker room.

Smiling down at the cover, Daniel carefully opened the old text. Illuminated ancient Latin radiated from the title page: 

"Sonnets, by William Shakespeare  
Latin Transcription by Brother Marcus Jacobi  
United Kingdom 1807"

 

Small precise hand writing in accurate, and very formal, Latin flowed under the title, "Catholic school had to be good for something. Welcome home. One hundred sixteen says it best: 'Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks.' See you soon."

Daniel pressed the antique to his forehead and then carefully tucked it into his jacket to take home. Heading toward the showers he smiled. They couldn't advertise what they had, but Jack managed to make the most of his secret public displays of affection.

** finis **

To read the full Sonnet that Jack quotes, http://www.albionmich.com/valentine.html


End file.
